


Decisions are made (by those who rise up)

by SnowHeart



Series: The Washington Administration [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a human disaster, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Fluff, One Shot, West Wing AU, but then you already knew that, like so much crack, only a crossover in 1 chapter, the rest is just Hamilton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:52:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7508983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowHeart/pseuds/SnowHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of one-shots featuring the Hamilton gang in modern day D.C. You know the drill<br/>Technically part of Those Who Rise Up but can be read on its own.</p><p>Featuring twitter wars, fake dating, and a certain nine year old poet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Adams Administration

**Author's Note:**

> John Adams has pissed of his friends. There's no way Alex is gonna let that one slide.
> 
> (Set after Lies and Damned Statistics if you came from TWRU)
> 
> (And sorry in advance for the layout on this one, it's a mess...)

_Eliza peered over Alex’s shoulder and smirked. “Nice screen name.”_

_Alex ignored her, with all the dignity and grace that someone who was still couch bound could manage. “It’s my incognito account, ‘Liza. Did you really think I was going to go at Adams all guns blazing for the whole world to see and not cover my ass?”_

_“Yes,” Burr muttered._

_“He’s still gonna know it’s you, though.” John pointed out._

_“I know. And he’s gonna know I know he knows. But can he prove jack? No. And therein lies the beauty.”_

_“Anyone else get 5 no’s there?” Angelica asked. “Remind me why we pay this guy to write speeches again?”_

_“Shut up and let me work.” Alex complained, stretching his arms out in front of him. “Would you like your vice president medium rare or well done this evening?”_

 

**a.nonymous**

An open tweet to the fat, arrogant, anti-charismatic, national embarrassment, known as vice president @John.adams.v.p.

 

**tjeffs**

@jimmymads shit… VPOTUS is being called out y’all

          I An open tweet to the fat, arrogant, anti-charismatic, national embarrassment, known as vice president @John.adams.v.p. I

 

**a.nonymous**

The man’s irrational. Did you know he still believes there’s some grand international conspiracy within the White House with the British that dates back to 1781?

 

**John.adams.v.p**

yet another wanna-be blogger claiming he has inside information on the white house. Get a real job @a.nonymous and start contributing to society

 

**a.nonymous**

Me get a real job? Bitch please. We all know @John.adams.v.p is the most redundant man in the country. Get back to me when you’ve actually contributed something of importance to the country. 1/2

          I yet another wanna-be blogger claiming he has inside information on the white house. Get a real job @a.nonymous and start contributing to society I

 

 

**a.nonymous**

2/2 And how would @John.adams.v.p know what I’m doing, anyway. Who says I don’t have a WH source? You’re never there anyway. How many days vacation do you take a year, out of interest? *cough* 8 months in Quincy *cough*

 

 

**a.nonymous**

Does anyone sit behind your desk in the west wing when you’re in Massachusetts? Just wondering. Because I hear it’s a very nice desk. Would be a shame to put our tax-payers money to waste like that.

 

**John.adams.v.p**

@anonymous is a prime example of why my social reform plans are so vital. We need to week out this uneducated, aggressive type of person from our society.

 

**a.nonymous**

Wow. you see this is why people have been calling you a dick since ’76 @John.adams.v.p Please tell me how exercising my free media to use my free power of speech to freely criticise my government is aggressive?

          I @anonymous is a prime example of why my social reform plans are so vital. We need to week out this uneducated, aggressive type of person from our society. I

 

**a.nonymous**

And “uneducated”? way to hate on Princeton. 

 

**a.dot.ham**

Oh hey, a fellow Princeton graduate! Obviously I must tell you to stop dragging our esteemed VP, @a.nonymous, and point out all the wonderful things the rest of the Washington administration has been up to. See @WHofficial. But congratulations on enjoying your rights!

 

 

_“Really, Alex? Ganging up on his with both your twitter accounts seems kind of unfair.”_

_“Shh, Eliza. Tell me you’re not impressed.”_

 

 

**a.nonymous**

Thanks @a.dot.ham. But to continue with my earlier point, you really will die of irrelevance one day mr VPOTUS. You’re nothing but a nuisance with no sense. What have you ever done for the government apart from bully WH staff?

 

**John.adams.v.p**

Your claims are ridiculous and unfounded @a.nonymous. as are you

 

 

**a.nonymous**

So you deny bullying white house staff? Interesting… also, I don’t think that last point made any grammatical sense. But go ahead and call me the devil if it makes you feel better, you ass

          I Your claims are ridiculous and unfounded @a.nonymous. as are you I

 

 

**a.nonymous**

Which incidentally is what you called your dog. I mean, seriously? A dog named Satan? What’s up with that?

 

 

 

**tjeffs**

If anyone’s looking for some entertainment tonight, there is a lit twitter war going on between @John.adams.v.p and the awesome @a.nonymous. It’s great stuff

 

**a.nonymous**

Hi there Jefferson! So @tjeffs thinks I’m awesome. I’ll have to remember that one for future use…

          I If anyone’s looking for some entertainment tonight, there is a lit twitter war going on between @John.adams.v.p and the awesome @a.nonymous. It’s great stuff I

 

**a.nonymous**

But back on topic… @John.adams.v.p has called claims he bullies WH staffers ridiculous and unfounded. I sure hope no official accusations come your way. this could get very embarrassing, you know. 1/2

 

**a.nonymous**

 2/2 Because you’ve now just lied in pretty much the most public, instant forum available, as well as being a sexist, pompous, charmless waste of space. That could be a problem at some stage, no? You might want to think about that…

 

**The account John.adams.v.p  has been discontinued.**

 

**a.nonymous**

Well, I guess the results speak for themselves. Over and out, America. Have a good night everyone! Even you @tjeffs 

          I The account John.adams.v.p  has been discontinued. I


	2. My name is Phillip, I am a poet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Set at any random time.)

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Alex looked up to see Eliza walking into his office carrying an armful of folders. “Nothing, why?” he asked cautiously, hoping to God they weren’t more work for him. He had enough on his plate as it was.

“I want you to come up state with me.”

“Eliza, you know I’d love to, but I’ve just got too much work to do, and-“

“Nope. Not taking no for an answer. You’ve got to meet this kid.”

Alex sighed, pushing his chair back from his desk. Any other time, he’d be more than happy to make the trip north to Eliza’s orphanage. She’d founded it after when she’d taken a step back from politics after the first campaign, and although she didn't actively run it any more she was still fairly involved, especially with the children. Alex could see how happy it made her, they all could. He just didn't have the time to take the weekend off right now.

“I can’t just ask Washington to let me go for two days.”

“I already asked him. You can pull your workaholic routine on Saturday, and we’ll drive up first thing Sunday. I’m serious, Alex, it’ll be worth it.”

Which was how, three days later, Alex found himself surrounded by children in the orphanage garden, listening to them chat away excitedly. Eliza was right, he should get away and come up here more often. The kids seemed to love him, and he couldn't deny it was mutual. The stress of work suddenly seemed a very long way away.

“Why don’t you guys run along?” Eliza called out as she walked towards them. “You can tell Alex all about your play over lunch.”

They did so, and for the first time Alex noticed the little boy peering at him from behind Eliza’s legs. She pushed him forward gently. “This is Phillip. Phillip, this is my friend Alex.”

The boy shook his hand with wide eyes, and Alex had to smile. Eliza had told him a little bit about Phillip on the drive up; no-one knew who his parents had been, exactly, but he’d been bounced around the system his whole life before ending up here. Somewhat shy, but if he took a liking to you there was no shutting him up. He was a smart kid as well (Eliza had one of his poems hanging on her office wall) and his hero was George Washington. Well, he had been until Eliza had told him about her friend Alex.

“Nice to meet you, Phillip.” he said.

“Is it true that you write for the President?” Phillip asked. “You can just write whatever you want, and the President will read it out the the whole country?”

He laughed. “I wish. If the President read out whatever I wrote we might have gotten into some trouble by now. But yes, I write a lot of his speeches. Eliza tells me that you like writing.”

“I’m a poet.”

“A poet, and you’re only nine? That’s awesome. Most kids your age don’t want anything to do with poetry.”

“Most kids my age are stupid.”

“Phillip!” Eliza scolded. “Be nice.”

“It’s true. But not me. Miss Smith says I’ve got brains and virtuosity.”

“That’s a big word.” Alex smiled. 

“I am big. Or I will be.” Phillip crossed his arms defiantly, looking ready to fight anyone who disagreed with him.

“I don’t doubt it.”

 

“I told you it was worth coming up here.” Eliza said gently. 

The two of them were watching the children play from her office window. Or more accurately, Eliza was watching Alex watch Phillip.

“You’ve done an amazing job with this place.”

“Phil’s a good kid. He’s special, you know? And he kind of reminds me of you.”

Alex turned to look at her. He knew the expression on her face too well, and sighed. “I can’t adopt him, Eliza. Even if I knew the first thing about children, there’s no way I’d have time. I might as well live in my office at the moment, and I can barley remember to look after myself. It just wouldn't be fair on him.”

She smiled softly. “I know. I’m not asking you to adopt him. I was just thinking… he could do with someone in his life to look up to, help him realise his potential. You don’t have to be his Dad or anything, just maybe visit occasionally? Write him a letter or two, keep up to date with what he’s doing? I know it would mean the world to him.”

“I’m sure it would. Is there any chance of finding him a permanent home?”

Her smile faded slightly. “Almost none. The older these kids get, the harder is to find people willing to take them on. The system’s failing them, and we need to do more. And Phillip’s always been something of a special case, all brains and no polish. We fostered him for a bit and it didn't work out.” 

She slid a file across to Alex, and he took it, frowning at the name printed on the front, before opening it. “Miranda?”

“That’s the surname the system gave him. I think they’re randomly assigned or something, but it’s as good as any considering we don’t have a clue who his family is. He’s got no-one, Alex.”

“Not true.” Alex looked down at the file in his hands, at the photo of Philip Miranda staring stubbornly back at him. “He’s got you, Eliza. And he’s got me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might write more Phillip, if anyone's up for that...?


	3. I see it coming, do I run?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An assassination attempt outside after the State of the Union... AKA the Hamsquad live through the most stressful TV cliffhanger ever...
> 
> (In TWRU, this was in the first draft I wrote that I went back and got rid of, but I'd still love you all to read it. This happens at the end of What Kind of Day Has It Been (Chapter 5), instead of Alex storming off and running into James Reynolds)

Herc had always had good instincts, and over the years he had learned to listen to them. It was the little voice that whispered that his brother was lying to him the day that Hugh had gotten into his first fight, the nudge to intercept anyone Washington didn't have the energy to deal with after a long day, the push that had driven him to apply for the messenger job in the spur of the moment in the first place. They results of years dodging the rougher parts of the city, they had translated surprisingly well into the world of high-flight politics. And right now they were screaming.  
He glanced uneasily around as they left the building, trying to pinpoint the source of his discomfort. There was a heaving ropeline - no surprises there, the usual buzz of post-speech high, the swarm of secret service agents surrounding the group as they walked towards the crowd. Nothing to suggest anything remotely out of the ordinary. So why was every hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing on end?  
Washington smiled warmly, waving to the crowds, and Herc swallowed the lump of unease forming in his throat. He considered going to the President, telling him he had an important call waiting, anything to get them in the car and out of here, but that was stupid. He couldn't lie to his commander in chief with nothing more than a gut feeling to back him up. Who to tell, then? Burr would dismiss his concerns without a second thought. Angelica, standing next to the cars was deep in discussion with someone on her phone, if shouting at whoever was unfortunate to be at the other end of the line counted as deep discussion. Eliza, the most trusting person he had ever met, would have born the ideal choice but she was striding towards John and Alex. The two were mid-argument, and there was a gleam in her eye that said she was about to stop a homicide (or possibly commit one.)  
Dammit.  
Insanely, he wished Laf were here. Herc had known the Frenchman for less from a month and they might as well have come from different worlds, yet somehow he was sure he would believe him in a moment. And he might just know what to do.  
Something was about to happen. No, scratch that, something was already happening. He knew that as sure as he knew his own name. He looked around for the closest agent, when a movement in the crowd caught his eye. A nod of the head. A glare, fixed on Washington. A flash of metal.   
He couldn't have said what came first, his feet moving of their own accord towards the president, or the scream of “Gun!” that came from his lips. But a second later, the cracks of gunfire echoed all around, and nothing mattered except throwing himself on the floor.   
As the bullets ricocheted all around, the sounds of screams and stampeding feet drowned out the panicked shouts crackling through the secret service earpieces.  
“Who’s been hit? Who’s been hit?”

 

Screams, and the sound of shattering glass. That was all John was aware of. His ears were ringing, head pounding, and heart thundering in his chest, pumping the fear through his veins. It was all he could do make himself as small as possible, flattened against the cool of the tarmac. Please, he thought desperately.   
The ringing in his ears gradually faded, and John was suddenly aware of someone shaking his arm. “John. John! Can you hear me?”  
He blinked, and tried to focus with difficulty. Another blink, and a face swum into view, pale and full of concern. “Eliza?”  
“Oh thank God.” she breathed. “Are you alright?”  
“I… my head’s… I think someone pulled me down and…” He tried to stand up, which turned out to be a horrible idea. The world lurched sickeningly and he blindly grabbed at the closest thing to stop himself falling over. Which just so happened to be Eliza.   
“Okay John, just sit down for a minute,” she said, lowering him back down to the ground where he sat hunched against a car, breathing deeply until everything stopped spinning. She ran a hand through his hair and John winced as pain suddenly spiked on the side of his head. Eliza cursed under her breath, and John looked up in time to see her hand come away stained red.  
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she told him hurriedly. “Just a little cut, you’re going to be fine.”  
“What happened?” he mumbled.   
She swallowed. “There were people shooting at us. Everyone scattered, you went down hard…”  
“The President. Is the President okay?”  
“I think so. They put him in a car pretty quick.”  
A breath of relief, immediately swallowed by fresh panic. “And everyone else?”  
The last thing John saw before the paramedics swarmed around him was Eliza shake her head helplessly and whisper “I don’t know.”

“Hercules!” Angelica shouted, grabbing her friends arm as he hurried past, and allowing him to swoop her into a hurried hug.  
“You ok?”  
“Yeah, fine. Do you know what happened to everybody else?” she could hardly think over the flood of fear for her friends, for everyone here who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. How had this happened? Just a minute ago they had been chatting about the weekend, and now…  
Herc grimaced. “The secret service did their thing. Washington was out of here pretty much straight away. And someone just put Aaron and Alex in a car.”  
“And Eliza? John?”  
“Over there, I think.” He gestured to a cluster of people across the square. Between the sea of sobbing students and paramedics uniforms she could make out Eliza talking to an agent, John sitting on the bonnet of a car, and for the first time since the cry of gun, Angelica allowed herself a moment to breathe. They were okay. They were all okay. Hercules released her and began to move away when her blood suddenly turned to ice.  
“Herc! You said they put Alex and Aaron in a car?”  
“Yeah, they just left. Why?”  
“Alex didn't get in the car. I just saw Aaron leaving, they had to take him directly to the situation room. He was on his own.”  
“I don’t know then.” Hercules said hurriedly, and moved away to talk to an agent who was gesturing at him.  
“Alex!” Angelica called. Dammit, she needed to talk to him. They were going to have to make a statement as soon as possible. Every minute they let slip by, word would spread and the country would start to panic. “Alexander!”  
No one responded. She pushed through the crowd, searching for her friend, and was just starting to think that maybe she’d been wrong and he had gotten in the car with Aaron after all, when she caught sight of him sitting hunched against a wall.  
“Alex, didn't you hear me calling?” she asked, running over. “We’ve got to…” But whatever it was they had got to do, Angelica forgot it all a second later. As she got close enough to see the paleness of Alex’s face. The fact that he wasn't sitting down at all, but was slumped up against the wall. As she got close enough to see the stain spreading across his shirt, the crimson dark against his white shirt.  
“Angelica…” he murmured, head lolling to one side.  
For one horrible moment, Angelica was sure she was going to pass out. She swayed slightly on her feet, unable to process the sight in front of her. “I need… I need a doctor!” she called out, and lunged forward as Alex’s efforts to keep himself upright finally became to much. She caught him just before his head hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week... More Phillip!


	4. But you can't write mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise this has been kind of neglected while I finished the main fic - sorry about that!  
> Have some more tooth-rotting Phillip fluff to make up for it  
> (Oh, and if you want to know what happened after the last chapter, go check out the first fic in this series.)

Alex didn't meet Phillip Miranda until a month after his ninth birthday, but he sent him a brand-new notebook anyway, along with a card telling him to fill it with whatever he wanted, and when he next saw him, Phillip eagerly showed the pages and pages of poetry and prose he’d written in his messy, cramped handwriting. After that, Alex was always sure to keep him supplied with all the writing materials he needed.

 

\--

 

On Phillip’s tenth birthday, Alex just about drove the entire West Wing crazy by asking every aide, diplomat or porter what to get him. It was only after Washington overheard him asking the director of the CIA if he thought that ten was too young to fully appreciate the works of Voltaire that the President decided enough was enough. He forcibly threw Alex out of the Oval (well, he had Hercules do it, but you know) with the instructions not to come back until he’d just brought the kid a skateboard. Alex had been a little skeptical about the whole thing -“But what if he falls off and breaks his arm, and then I have to commit fraud by telling the hospital we’re related?”- although that didn't stop him spending three hours deliberating over every make, modal and colour in the store. In the end, he needn't have worried. Phillip loved it.

“How did you know?” he asked the President, showing everyone a video Eliza had sent of Phillip zooming around a park.

Washington shrugged. “He’s a ten year old boy.” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course he wants a skateboard.”

“You don't even have kids. How are you so good at this?”

“I’ve got you lot. That’s ten times harder than raising any child.”

 

\--

 

On his eleventh birthday, Alex didn't even have to worry about what to buy him. Phillip already knew exactly what he wanted.

“He wants what?” Alex asked.

“I don’t see why not. It can be like one of those bring your kid to work days we always do.” said Eliza.

“We have never once done one of those.”

“Then let’s start the tradition. And don’t pretend you’re not desperate to show him off to everyone.”

Alex grinned despite himself. That was true. “You think Washington’s gonna be okay with it?”

The President hadn't so much as blinked at the strange request, only smiled slightly. “The two of you aren't going to break anything? Or smuggle state secrets to the Republicans in his lunch box?”

“No sir.”

“Then make sure you find five minutes I’m free to come and say hello. It would be a shame not to give him the full tour.”

Which was how, two weeks later, Alex was driving through the staff entrance to the West Wing with a wide-eyed Phillip in the passenger seat. He strained against the seatbelt in an effort to get a better look at the building and said “It’s so big,” almost to himself. Alex had to laugh.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, kid.”

Getting Phillip through the front door and to his office took a lot longer than Alex had been anticipating. He thought the boy might spontaneously combust when they cleared security and Alex issued him with his guest pass, and he seemed to want to stand and gawk at everything in the lobby until Alex took him gently by the shoulder.

“Come on. This isn't even the cool stuff. Do you want to come see communications?”

“Communications?”

“That’s where I work.”

And suddenly Phillip couldn't get there fast enough. They were sitting in Alex’s office, Phillip spinning around on his chair and reading pieces of paper at random off his desk when John stuck his head around the door.

“I’m not interupting anything, am I?”

“No, come in! Phillip, this is my friend John. He works with me.”

“You write for the President too?”

John laughed, slightly taken aback at his excitement. “Yeah, I do. I’m not as good as Alex, though. He’s my boss.”

“He’s the White House Communications Director.” Phillip recited proudly. 

“That’s right. Do you know what that means?”

Phillip shook his head earnestly and John leaned in close, and said in a secretive whisper. “It means that he’s a genius at writing, but really really stupid at a lot of other stuff.”

Phillip giggled. “Eliza says he’s all brains and no sense.”

“You’ll find that Eliza’s right about pretty much everything.”

“You know I can hear you both, right?” Alex huffed. “I am standing right here.”

John just winked at Phillip, then asked “Have you shown him around yet?”

“Nah. I was actually hoping you’d do that. I’ve got to see the Ways and Means Committee about…” “Me?”

“Okay, listen.” Alex dragged John to one side and lowered his voice. “I want Phillip to have an amazing time and I need someone who’d actually be half decent at giving a tour. I don’t actually know a thing about this place.”

“You’re the White House communications director.”

“So?”

“So you’re not good at talking about the White House?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” John raised his voice to talk to both Alex and Phillip, who was craning his neck trying to listen into their conversation. “How about both of us show you around the place, then there’s half the chance we’ll forget something important. Sound good?”

Phillip nodded eagerly, and ten minutes later he was quizzing the pair of them on every aspect of speechwriting and working for the President. John told him about the history and the importance of every room as they went, with Alex dropping in his own stories. “I got so lost on my first week here, I kept thinking this cleaning cupboard was my office… I’m pretty sure we broke that door once - hey, it wasn't my fault, we were trying to hide from the Vice President… Oh, this is Benny’s desk, he makes the best brownies in the whole of D.C…” and so on.

They had lunch in the Mess, Phillip quietly snaking on an enormous cookie that John had insisted on buying him while he talked work with Alex for a bit. The two of them were discussing whether or not they needed to make a statement refuting an article in the Post, with Phillip hanging off every word, when the seat next to them was suddenly filled. 

“You would not believe the day I am having,” Lafayette grumbled, seemingly unaware of the child staring at him. “So firstly, this arse at the coffee shop jumps right in front of me in the queue, and takes the last muffin as well, then I have to go all the way up to Foggy Bottom before someone bothers to tell me my meeting is cancelled. _C’est une honte,_ I tell you. If the idiots at the state departments could only get their head’s out their-“

“Laf, have you met Phillip?” Alex interrupted, sensing his friend was about to launch into a bilingual swearing session. “I’m showing him around the White House today. Phillip this is my friend, French Ambassador and all round idiot Lafayette.“

Laf blushed, and had the grace to look a little ashamed. Only a little though. “Nice to meet you, Phillip.” He said. “Sorry for that rant a second ago.”

 _“Pas de problem. C’etait tres drole. Où ne le département d'État ont leurs têtes?_ ”

John just stared at the kid, Alex choked on his coffee, and Laf began to laugh. “You speak french? That is wonderful! Who taught you?”

“Eliza’s teaching me, whenever she comes up. I’m not fluent yet but…” he shrugged. “It’s just different words. I like words.”

“You got a smart one here, Alexander.” Laf smiled, ruffling Phillip’s hair. 

Alex elbowed John in the ribs. “Hey, guess what? You’re still the only one who doesn't speak French.”

“Oh piss off.” 

\--

It was almost evening by the time Herc came to find them. Philip had sat at the back of a press briefing, proudly recited facts about all the past Presidents who hung in portraits in the east wing, and charmed pretty much the entire staff. Alex purposely hadn't told him about the last thing he’d arranged for Philip, partly because he wanted it to be a surprise and partly because he’d been afraid to disappoint him if they had to cancel. So when Herc arrived and said “You guys ready?” he grinned and turned to Phillip.

“Hey, you want to meet one more person before we go home?”

“Sure…”

“Let’s go say hi to the President, shall we?”

It was the only time he had ever seen the kid tongue tied, and Alex couldn't say he blamed him. It happened to him sometimes, in the middle of a meeting or when he he stuck his head around the door like he had a thousand times before. He would look at the eagle on the floor, at the Resolute Desk and the man sitting behind it and and be unable to speak for a minute, wondering how this was his life. It seemed like the same thing was happening to Phillip right now.

“Hi there, Phillip.” Washington said, smiling warmly. “How do you like my White House?”

Alex nudged him. “You can talk,” he whispered.

“It’s amazing, sir. We’ve seen the Roosevelt room and the bullpen and the press room and John bought me a cookie and you’re secret service agents are kind of scary and I think Lafayette knows more French swear words than real French words and-“

“Oh God, you let Gilbert talk to him?” Washington asked Alex accusingly.

“Not my fault. He ambushed us at lunch.”

Washington smiled fondly, then turned back to Phillip. “You’re a writer, yes? Can I tell you a secret? I’m a terrible writer myself, I’d be in a lot of trouble if I had to make up all my own speeches.”

“That’s why you have Alex?”

“Yes. Keep it up, kid, the world needs more writers.”

Later, when Philip was strapped back into the backseat and Alex was driving him back upstate, he couldn't help but wonder why Washington had never had kids. He was so good with them. But then, there was something about Phillip that you couldn't help but fall head over heels with.

“Hey, Alex?” he asked.

“I thought you were asleep. What is it?”

“This was the best birthday ever. When I’m big, I want to work in the White House.”

“So do I,” he replied and Phillip smiled sleepily. 

“Love you Alex.” he murmured, and Alex froze. He had told Eliza he couldn't take responsibility for this boy, and that was still true. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. But all the same..

“Me too, kid.” he whispered, sweeping hair out of the eyes of the now sleeping boy. “Me too.”


	5. I want to be in the room (just not this one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most unrepentant crack I have ever written. What was I thinking?
> 
> Unlike everything else in this AU, knowledge of the West Wing is necessary for this chapter and this chapter only - this is purely self indulgent and was written months ago to help me work out characterisation - normal chapters will continue from here on out.
> 
> Forgive me Lin, Aaron, and anyone who reads this.

No-one tried to explain it, or work out what the hell had just happened. They wouldn't even know where to begin. There was no scientific or logical reason that this could possibly be happening, so no-one tried to come up with one. Rolling with the punches is a key skill in government, after all, and any-one trying to run the White House wouldn't get far without the ability to think on their feet and adapt to the situation at hand. Although, to be fair, this situation was a bit outside the realms of normal, and no-one was quite sure how to react to the fact that suddenly there were two administrations in the oval office.

President Bartlett was holding his daily staff meeting when it happened; one minute they were talking about the voting in Texas team and arguing over Latin, the next they were suddenly faced with a very confused group of people.

“Could someone please explain what’s going on?” one of them asked, a tall guy with close cropped  hair. “This doesn't look like my White House?”

“You’re White House?” Bartlett responded.

“Yes. My name is President George Washington.”

Bartlett glanced at his staff, all of whom were looking back at him in various stages of shock, and grinned. Now this was going to be interesting. 

 

“Now this deal with the French-Indian war, was that really your fault? Because I’ve heard a lot of historians blame you for that one, but-“

“I keep trying to tell you, that wasn't me.” Washington attempted for the twentieth time. “I didn't do any of this stuff. You’re talking about some other George Washington.”

“What about the constitutional convention? And the declaration of Independence? You know an ancestor of mine signed that. Josiah Bartlett, did you know him? New Hampshire delegate. Good guy, from what I hear. Of all the representatives who signed-“

“Jed,” Leo said softly. “I think that’s enough.” He turned to Washington. “You’ll have to excuse him, he’s a complete history geek.”

Washington just nodded faintly. He’d put up with some crazy shit in his time but this? Insane.

 

“Well it seems like the press podium is in good hands anyway.” CJ said, smiling warmly at Angelica. She’d taken an instant liking to her counter-part.

“As if I’d let any of these idiots touch my press room.”

“I did that once. Complete disaster. Josh was up there for 5 minutes, and suddenly the President had a secret plan to fight inflation.”

Angelica giggled. “No! I bet you loved that one.”

“I may have murdered him. Not as good as the time I threatened to shove a motherboard up his ass, but the sentiment was there.”

“It’s just as bad with my lot.” Angelica confided. “I leave them alone and they’re screaming at congressmen or challenging half of Capitol Hill to a dual. This one time, Alex…”

(“I’m feeling victimised here,” Alex mumbled.

“Me too.” Josh replied. “Should we say something, or…”

They both looked at each other, then at the two women who both happened to be wearing dangerous looking heels, and decided against it.)

“And I love my job, but sometimes the press are a nightmare.” Angelica said. “Sometimes I want to round up every single journalist and lock them in a room somewhere.”

“I don’t know, they’re not all bad.”

Angelica looked at her for a second, then gasped in triumph. “You’re hooking up with one of them! You’ve got yourself a boy in the Press core!”

“I’m not… How could you tell?”

“Sweetie, I can always tell.”

 

“So you’re the deputy Communications director?”

“Yup. And you’ve got an dick for a father as well?”

“I do. And you were a lawyer until your best friend convinced you to join the campaign?”

“And you accidentally got yourself running for congress?”

“Same! Does that mean you’re secretly gay as hell and dating your best friend?”

Sam stared at him for a moment, glanced at Josh then back to the freckled speechwriter looking at him eagerly, and then burst out laughing. 

 

“I have to say Charlie, other you seems like kind of a badass.” Zoe said, sitting on the sofa between him and Hercules.

“I’m a badass!” he protested. 

“I don’t think so. I mean this guy’s a secret agent, went AWOL, saved his friend from certain doom and got the head of intelligence arrested. What’s the most badass thing you’ve ever done?”

“I broke into the Botanical Gardens for you! And I punched that guy in Orange County.”

“I thought he tripped?”

“No, I definitely punched him.”

“Face it, short-stack.” Herc smiled, because he would be lying if he said he didn't love the fact he was taller than his counter-part. “You can’t compete with this.”

Charlie thought for a minute. “Okay, how about this? I once got caught by the President coming out of his daughter’s bedroom at midnight, then had to come into work and look him in the eye every day for the next two years.”

Herc glanced at the two Presidents, back at Charlie, and whistled. “I take it all back. You are hardcore, kid.”

 

“I’m feeling kind of left out here,” Josh complained.

“Yeah, me too.” said Donna. The two of them were sitting in a corner of the office watching everyone else interact with their doubles. “How come we don’t have other versions of us?”

“I know. It’s like the author deliberately ignored our jobs to fit the narrative better.”

“You can have my one.” Toby grumbled, coming over to sit next to them followed by a man who could only be described as an over-excited puppy. “I don’t think he’s stopped talking this whole time.”

“So how did you guys deal with the five votes that jumped the fence. Because I tried talking to Jefferson, and the bastard turned up with this ice-cream and started talking about how he didn't actually care about the vote and there were bigger things going on but he still wouldn't swing our way and-“

Toby groaned, running a hand over his head and Donna had to laugh. “You know, he kind of reminds me of you, Josh.”

“Me? I don’t think I’ve ever said that many words in my life.”

“I don’t know what it is, but there’s something…”

“Yeah, I see that.” Eliza pitched in. “Maybe it’s the distain for congress, or just the general ability to fuck up.

“What are you doing over here, Eliza? What happened to Mandy?”

“God knows. She was really annoying and then she just kinda disappeared with no explanation.”

“That sounds like her.”

 

Lafayette eyed up the ambassador wearily. Normally the word British would be enough to make him dislike someone on principle, but he had no idea how long they would be stuck here so he should at least try and make an effort with this guy. He stuck out his hand. “Hey. Lafayette.”

“Sir John Marbury. This is all rather odd, isn't it? I wonder if the butler knows what’s going on… Oh, no, is that the Chief of Staff? Leonard something, I can never get that quite right…”

Laf stared for a moment. “Nope.” he eventually decided and turned away. This wasn't going to work.

 

Jed Bartlett and Alexander Hamilton got on great, as it turned out. Leo stood watching the two of them talk eagerly about… well, he had given up following the conversation some time ago and was now just in a stage of bemused acceptance.

“Is there any chance we could just leave Alexander here?” Aaron asked, coming to stand next to him. 

“I think congress would riot within the week. I always told Jed that he was too smart to be running for President, I mean, I was the one who convinced him to run in the first place but-“

“You’re close then? You and the President?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the closest friend he’s got in this place.”

Aaron smirked. “It must be nice. Washington barely tolerates me.”

“You’re his chief of Staff.”

“You see everyone else here? They’re his sons, his daughters. I’m just the guy who deals with all the admin and… When Laf got kidnapped, he stepped down terrified that he’d start a war to get him back. No one’s starting a war on my behalf.”

Leo followed his eyes to the Frenchman on the other side of the room and tried to keep his expression neutral. If this guy had been through the same thing as Zoe… To Aaron, he said “It’s the same with Jed. I’m not one of his sons, I’m the guy who tells him to his face when he’s wrong and can be counted on to hold this building together when the world turns upside down. Washington knows that. I think you’ll find he values you more than you realise.” 

Leo turned and walked away, and Aaron was left to wonder if this understated man had more brains than the rest of the room put together, and if what he said could possibly be true.

 

“Do you love him?”

Donna jumped, and turned to see Eliza watching her with sad eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Josh.” Donna’s stomach dropped as Eliza kept talking. “The way you watch him, talk to him, roll your eyes at his dumb jokes… I was just wondering.”

“It’s not like that. He’s my boss, and my friend, and-“

“Okay. I believe you. You just remind me of someone, that’s all.”

“Who?” she asked curiously.

“Me. Three years ago.”

“What, Alexander. Do you…?”

“I did.” Eliza smiled sadly, and Donna was sure there was a story there. “But we didn't work. I had to let him go, otherwise I’d loose him.”

“You think I’d loose Josh if we were together?” Donna asked, before realising what she’d basically just confessed to and clamping her mouth shut. 

“Not necessarily, not if he’s smart enough to realise what he has. You don’t strike me as the helpless type, Donna Moss.”

 

 

“Hey,” Zoe Bartlett whispered, sidling up to Laf. He looked at her with curiosity; his president had no family besides his wife (and of course his staff) and Laf couldn't help but wonder if George Washington would feel more or less like a father to him if he had real sons of his own. “Hey yourself,” he replied.

“So Leo said something about you,” she said almost nervously, and Laf barely knew this girl but he was sure the emotion was somewhat alien to her. “He said that a while back you went to London and…”

Laf froze. How had this Chief of Staff found out about his kidnapping, and why would he tell the President’s daughter of all people. It wasn't a happy story after all. “What about it?”

“I was just wondering. The nightmares. Do they go away?”

Zoe wasn't curious, Laf realised in shock, and she hadn't been nervous either. See was traumatised, and doing an amazing job of hiding it. “You too?” he asked, and wanted to be sick when she nodded. The idea of a child going through what he had… “When?”

“A few years back.” she replied. “I was out of it most of the time to be honest, so I only remember bits and pieces. But that’s almost worse, you know? I get flashes, and…”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Laf wrapped his arm around her. “I get it. When I first woke up, I had no idea what was real and what was my mind. I still can’t always tell.”

“So how do you cope?”

He gestured at the groups of people around the room. “Your friends, your family, all they want to do is help you. I know it is the hardest part, but it’s okay to let them occasionally. Plus, we are survivors. We must show the world how we get back up, yes?”

Zoe smiled softly. The expression looked good on her, and Laf told her as much. She rewarded him with a laugh. “You know, it was falling for another charming Frenchman that got me into this mess in the first place.”

“You don’t want to fall for me. I’m rather taken, I’m afraid.”

“Who’s the lucky girl?”

Now it was Laf’s turn to laugh. He pointed to where Hercules and President Bartlett’s bodyman were deep in conversation and Zoe’s eyes grew wide in understanding. “Oh, right. Don’t tell Charlie, I’ve been telling him that I’m going to trade him in for Herc all day and he’s kinda cute when he gets all flustered.”

 

“You look about as miserable as I feel right now.” Aaron told Toby. 

“I’m trying to work out if the universe has it in for me in particular, or is just in an unusually sadistic mood today. Those are the only two explanations I can come up with for why we have to deal with this today.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Ouch.”

Toby realised he’d probably been a bit rude there. Oh well. He still wasn't convinced that these people with the names of founding fathers, but a madness that could only be found in contemporary politics were real. And even if they were, guess who would have to work out how to spin this so the public wouldn't riot at a man claiming to be President George Washington. Add to that the Vice President CJ often described as crazy, the guy he shot and a whole host of other nutters, and his head was beginning to ache. Plus he had no idea what he could tell them. Take this Aaron Burr standing in front of him. How could he even begin to talk to him? “Hi there, any urges to murder your friend over there today? Because you’re going to shoot him, spoiler alert!” Or maybe the whole thing was just an elaborate practical joke. He’d blame Josh, if he wasn't looking just as confused as the rest of them.

Toby suddenly realised he hadn't answered Aaron and did his best impression of a smile. “Sorry. Weird day.”

“You could say that.” He paused. “Does your President ever stop talking?”

“Just for the love of God don’t get him started on national parks.”

“National Parks?”

“You don’t want to know.”

 

No-one tried to explain it, or work out what the hell had just happened. They wouldn't even know where to begin. There was no scientific or logical reason that this could possibly be happening, so no-one tried to come up with one. Rolling with the punches is a key skill in government, after all, and any-one trying to run the White House wouldn't get far without the ability to think on their feet and adapt to the situation at hand. Although, to be fair, this situation was a bit outside the realms of normal, and no-one was quite sure how to react to the fact that suddenly there was just one administration in the Oval Office again.

“Well…” Bartlett said, looking around and trying not to seem too disappointed. Their mysterious guests had disappeared just as quickly as they arrived. “That was new.”

“Alright, confession time. Who drugged the coffee?” Toby asked.

“I liked them.” Zoe said quietly, and Leo smiled to himself. He wasn't sure what the flamboyant Frenchman had said to her, but the kid had looked much more cheerful since. “Me too.” he agreed. “But only for a visit.”

The thought of letting Alexander Hamilton loose on congress passed through the room and everyone shuddered. CJ imagined the press conferences and decided she didn't envy Angelica one bit, Josh thought of all the angry senators he’d need to placate and Donna… well, she just looked at Josh and wondered if he was a little too much like Hamilton. Would he choose the work, at the end of the day, or was there a chance that he could ever make a different choice? Eliza had been right about one thing, though. As far as he was concerned, Donna would never be helpless.

 


	6. I was not about to

“Phillip Miranda. Where is he?”

The woman behind the desk looked up at him. “Miranda?”

“I’m here to get him. Where is he?” 

She pursed her lips. “Are you family?”

“I might as well be. Now tell me where he is, or-“

John grabbed his arm. “Alex, calm down.”

“I am calm!”

That was possibly the most obvious lie Alex had ever told, but he couldn't bring himself to care. How did John expect him to be reacting after getting a call saying Phillip had been arrested, after all? He’d been so angry that John had taken one look at him and forbidden him from driving, electing to give him a lift to the police station.

He wasn't feeling much better as they were walked through the Precinct, and when he caught sight of the teenager sitting hunched on a bench he had to grit his teeth to clamp down on a yell. John, perhaps noticing the approaching storm turned to the police officer and said “Is there some paperwork I need to sort out?” The two of them left, leaving Alex and Phillip alone.

Alex took a deep breath, and Phillip jumped up before he could speak. “Alex. Look, I can explain.”

“Explain what, Phillip? How you call me up in the middle of the night to let me know I need to come pay your bail? That you’ve been arrested for assault? Is that what you’re going to explain?”

“It wasn't like that.”

“Then what was it like?”

“I was defending you, alright?”

Alex blinked. “You what?”

“There’s this guy in my debate team, George Eaker. He’s a real piece of work. Doesn’t like Washington much, and really doesn't like you.”

“He wouldn't be the first.”

“So he’s saying all this shit about you, about how you don’t deserve to be working in the White House, that people like you are killing this country… I wasn't going to let that slide! So I go up to him after school, tell him to take it back and he wouldn't and…”

“Oh, Phillip…”

“Are you telling me you’d have just stood there and let get away with it?” Phillip demanded hotly.

“Of course not. But landing yourself in lock-up isn't the answer.”

“I didn't hit him hard, not really. But he went down and there was an off-duty cop across the street and of course he didn't let me tell my side of the story once George started shouting and-“

“You shouldn't have done it. Tell me you understand that? It’s not your job to protect me, I’ve got people we pay a lot of money to do that, and they’re a hell of a lot better at it than you are.”

“He’s the debate captain. The kids in my year, they listen to him, start believing what he tells them. Someone had to stand up to him.”

Alex sighed, and took Phillip’s hand. The boy jerked it away, but Alex shot him a look and he relented, allowing him to examine his bruised knuckles. “You have a mean swing, I’ll give you that, but these aren't your best weapons. You didn't need to hit this Eaker when you can hurt him in other ways. You’ve got the words, Phillip, why the hell aren't you using them?”

A pause. And then, “Because no one’s listening.”

And there was nothing Alex could really say to that. Wasn't that the problem he’d been facing all his life? Screaming at the world because he knew no-one cared what he had to say. Alex had been lucky, he’d met the right people at college to put him on the right track. And it looked like he was going to have to do the same thing for the boy sitting in front of him. 

He straightened. “Me and John are going to get this straightened out. We’ll flex a little White House muscle, make sure you don’t get charged with anything permanent. You’ll probably have to apologise to Eaker though.

“I can’t do that when it’s not true.” Phillip muttered.

“Do you wish you hadn't hit him, when you could have done something else?”

“I guess.”

“Then you can say George, I’m sorry I hit you without lying. Maybe just don’t say you wish you’d verbally ripped him a new one instead?”

Alex was rewarded with the ghost of a smile. “Maybe not,” Phillip agreed quietly.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

 

\--

 

Hours later, and Phillip was sitting on Alex’s sofa holding an ice pack to his busted knuckles. John pulled Aled into the kitchen and lowered his voice so the teenager wouldn't hear.

“We’re going to have to tell Eliza. These things stay on the system even if hasn't been charged with anything, and she’s going to find out eventually.”

“I know.” Alex sighed. “I just want to give him the chance to explain it himself, it’ll be so much worse coming from us. She’s going to flip as it is, he was doing so well…”

“So you’re going to call her up here, or do you want me to do it?”

“No, I’ll call her. Just… give me a minute.” The two of them watched Phillip through the door. “He was trying to protect me, John. It’s supposed to be the other way around. And I can’t even do that.”

“You can’t fight all his battles for him.” John said kindly, taking his hand. “And hey, we got him off assault charges today, that’s not too bad. He knows you’re there for him.”

Alex smiled softly, a smile he hoped said _I know_ and _thank you_ and _what did I ever do to deserve you?_ all at once, then let go of John’s hand and went to sit down beside Phillip.

“How’s the swelling?”

“Not too bad. Might leave a scar though.”

“You’re not supposed to sound happy about that. And no it won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Alex sighed, and ran a hand through his hair which had come loose at some point in the evening without him noticing. “You know what we gotta do now? We need to call Eliza and get you home.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Unless you want to go back down to the police station, but this time it’s me arrested for kidnapping you, it can’t.”

“Thought as much.” Phillip grumbled. “She’s gonna be so mad.”

“She won’t be mad, just-“

“I swear to God, if you say she’ll just be disappointed I’m walking out of here right now.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Phillip. I promise.”

The teenager looked at him with wide eyes, and Alex was striking reminded of the nine year old he’d met all those years ago who looked at the world with such wonder. That boy had grown a lot more cynical since then, a lot more afraid, but when he looked at Alex there was that same trust. Alex wasn't sure he deserved it, Phillip’s unconditional faith in him. He couldn't make it all okay for the boy, he couldn't make a lot of things okay, but he knew exactly how much that trust meant. So he smiled. And handed Phillip the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably going to be the last update here for a while, because firstly school has started up again (for the last time! woop woop) but also because I'm beginning to draft out a great big multi-chapter Hamilton-Hogwarts AU... yes, I really am that trashy. If anyone's got any requests or suggestions for that while I'm still in the planning stage I'd love to hear from you!  
> I won't be neglecting this completely but expect updates to be lot slower while I'm working on other stuff.


	7. To oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was not magnificent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For best reading experience, listen to Holocene by Bon Iver

The porters had finished that morning, everything he owned systematically boxed up and shipped away south. George Washington couldn't say he was sorry to see it go. But the building suddenly seemed huge and cavernous without the furniture and personal touches that had crept in over the last eight years without him even being aware of it. The neat stack of books on his bedside table, gone. The battered sneakers he wore for jogging that had taken up a permanent spot by the back door of the Residence, absent. The absurd little plastic Eiffel Tower that had sat on his desk ever since Lafayette had bought it on a street corner in Paris, lost somewhere in one of the countless boxes that were making their way to Mount Vernon. He’d be following it in a couple of hours, and as much as he wanted to go home, it was suddenly far too soon.

George smiled to himself at the irony. The man who had never wanted to be President who only didn't want to give it up when he had to.

He didn't consider himself a sentimental man, but as the shadows outside grew long and the sun began to dip behind DC skyline, George found himself walking through the rooms one by one, feet guiding him though the memories one last time. 

He went to the residence first, the rooms he had tried to make home for eight years. Already, it felt like it belonged to a stranger. The bed was not his now, in two days time it would belong to John Adams of all people. Had he slept here for the three days he’d been Commander in Chief? George realised with a start that, in all the years since London, he’d never asked. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to know. 

He left the Residence quickly after that.

Ballrooms always seemed out of place without a ball to fill them, rooms made for one specific function and in the cold light of day all the proportions felt wrong. George walked silently through, counting off the countless parties and receptions held here. Some he’d enjoyed. Most, he’d tolerated. But they were some of the nights history books would write about.

He didn't feel like a history maker. He was just a man, trying to do his best with the time he’d been given. That was all anyone could do, after all. The weird thing about this place was that the question of your legacy is asked from your very first day. You know, the moment you step through the doors that every action will be weighed against the conscience of a nation. Of all the questions he’d asked of himself over the years, none of them had even come close to matching the inevitable have I done enough? he was asking now. He didn't know how history would judge him. Only that it would. And somewhere along the way, his actions would become pages of a dusty old book and the actual essence of George Washington would be consigned to oblivion.

Maybe it wasn't the lack of furniture that made the White House feel like a mausoleum, he decided as he crossed an empty bull pen. It was the lack of people. Eight years, through endless nights and the dead of winter and he’d never seen the West Wing so empty. The chaos, the tapping of keys and shouts and ringing of phones, they were the life blood that made the place tick. He visited each room in turn, biding farewell to the people who had walked their halls.

The bull pen. It had taken them two weeks to scrape glitter form the carpet after Hercules’ party. If he tilted his head, George was sure the floor still sparked slightly. _Oops_.

The press room. Angelica Schuyler, his filter to the rest of the world, both his mouthpiece and his shield. The sight of Alexander’s biggest screw up to date, or at least the one George would tease him about until the day he died. Secret plan to fight inflation indeed.

John Laurens’ office. It had been John’s even after he left, and his once he came back as if they had been saving the place for him. Had he known John would come back? No. Had he thought he would? No. Had he hoped? For the sake of his adopted children, with all his heart. 

Through the corridors of the West Wing. Countless conversations, both of the throw-away and deadly serious variety. The coming and going of kings and porters and aides alike. 

The Chief of Staff’s office. Would Burr resent not being able to work in here anymore? The desk was certainly the nicest in the building. Aaron had been a chance all those years ago in a store-front in Virginia. A risk (paradoxically, seeing as the man was anything but a risk taker) that George was glad he’d taken, in the end. Adams would need him and Eliza both if he was to survive these walls. How many Senior Staff meetings had taken place in these walls? How many arguments? How many plans formed that would shape America? Or were the two things essentially the same when it came to his staff? In this room that Alexander and John read the front page of the pamphlet and saw their entire world crumbling down. In this room that their friends vowed to help them rebuild it.

 _It wasn't me,_ George realised, _not really, not any of it._ They were a group, his staff, a team. His guys. And all they had done here had been their vision. The history books could write, but they would get it all wrong. _I was not magnificent. We were._

Through the door and into the Oval Office. 

The room with the eagle on the floor. The embodiment of power and decision making. God, George hated this room, but it had been his and he had served with pride. 

And he thought, at the end of the day, he’d done okay.

 

Half an hour later, the car came. The sun set behind the Capitol building. The West Wing fell silent.

And George Washington didn't look back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tI-Io2dd6KI


	8. Playlists for the Washington Administration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these were playing on repeat while I was writing Those Who Rise Up, others I made when reading my work again for the first time in almost six months recently. All contain music I love, and that helped me to get into the heads and hearts of these characters.  
> Enjoy.

 

_Brothers in Arms: A mix for the Washington Administration_

Brothers in Arms - Dire Straights  
Remember the Name - Fort Minor  
I lived - One Republic  
I Bet My Life - Imagine Dragons  
Heroes - David Bowie  
Wrote My Way Out - Hamilton Mixtape  
Renegades - X Ambassadors  
Holocene - Bon Iver  
Empire - Monsters and Men  
For Good - Wicked OBC  
SAIL - AWOL Nation   
Marching On - One Republic  
Torches - X Ambassadors

 

_________________

 

_Second Hand Smoke: A mix for Adrienne Lacroix_

Monster -  Imagine Dragons  
Irresistible - Fall out Boy  
Half a World Qway - Aurora  
Skyfall - Adele  
Things We Lost in the Fire - Bastille  
Human - Monsters and Men  
Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde  
I Will Not Bow - Breaking Benjamin  
Novocaine - Fall out boy  
Never Let me Go - Florence and the Machine

 

_________________

 

  
_Counting Backwards the Days: A mix for John and Alexander_

Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons  
Icarus - Bastille  
Hey Brother - Avicii  
Even My Dad Does Sometimes - Ed Sheeran  
Already Home - A Great Big World  
Some nights - Fun  
In Too Deep Sum - 41  
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room - John Mayer  
Afire Love - Ed Sheeran  
Shots - Imagine Dragons  
Close to You - Neon Trees

 

 

_________________

_She Can Be Anything At All: A Mix for Miss Maria Reynolds_

  
Goodbye Stranger - Supertramp  
Another Love - Tom Odell  
The City - Ed Sheeran  
Fix you Coldplay   
Hurricane - Hasley  
Demons - Radioactive  
American Oxygen - X ambassadors  
Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey

 

 

_________________

 

  
_Think No More: A Mullette Mix_

 

Seven Nation Army - White Stripes  
Unsteady - X Ambassadors  
Little Talks - Monsters and Men  
Last Friday Night - Katy Perry  
Soldier - Ingrid Michealson  
Light Em Up - Fall Out Boy  
Sabotage - Beastie Boys  
Highway to Hell (AD/DC  
Flaws - Bastille  
Young Volcanoes - Fall Out Boy

 

 

_________________

_With a Feeling I’ll Forget: A mix for Aaron and Theo_

  
Here I am - Tom Odell  
Stay the Night - James Blunt  
Oceans - Seafret  
One Day Baby We’ll Be Old  
Wake me up - Ed Sheeran  
A matter of time - The Killers  
Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran  
Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey  
First Things First - Neon Trees  
Speeding Cars - Walking on Cars  
I found - Amber Run

 

 

_________________

 

  
_Those Things I Didn't Say: A Mix For Angelica Church_

  
Yellow Light - Monsters and Men  
You don’t know me - Son Lux  
Fight Song - Rachel Platten  
Run the World - Beyonce  
Castle - Halsey  
Find My Way Home - Blind Faith  
Elastic Heart - Sia   
No Angels - Bastille ft. Ella Eyre  
Working Girl - Train

 

 

_________________

 

  
_I Was Not Magnificent: A mix for George Washington_

  
Old and Wise - Alan Parsons Project  
Holocene - Bon Iver  
Sigh No More - Mumford and Sons  
Loosing My Religion - REM  
In Too Deep - Sum 41  
The Human I Am - This Good Robot  
Broken Crown - Momford and Sons  
The West Wing Suite - W.G. Snuffy Walden

 

 

_________________

_If He Makes It Through The Night:  A Playlist For Hospital Rooms_

 

Medicine - The 1975  
Unsteady - X Ambassadors  
Even My Dad Does Sometimes - Ed Sheeran  
To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra  
Skinny Love - Birdy  
Bleeding Out - Imagine Dragons  
The Parting Glass - Ed Sheeran  
Empire - Monsters and Men  
Chasing Cars - Cast of Greys Anatomy  
Safe And Sound - Taylor Swift  
Oblivion - Bastille

 

  

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_What Are You Thinking About? - A Playlist For Tomorrow_

  

Five Years Time - Noah and the Whale  
Burning Love - Elvis  
The Last Goodbye - Billy Boyd  
Twist and Shout - The Beetles  
Daylight - Maroon 5  
Already Home - A Great Big World  
Have I Told You Lately That I Love You - Rod Stewart  
We Go Together - Grease OBC  
Days of Summer - Starkid


End file.
